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Jhal'Mud
((This character is Played by Karel)) "Come, let me see your wounds." History Hekhmeht of the Seventh Circle was a powerful noble of Osirian. He had taken part in making the shabby town into a proper city, using whatever means he had to, and once his place was established, he began working on furthering other plans of his. Namely, Achieving ascendancy, one way or another. Hehkmeht was an ambitious man, and he was not below killing tens of thousands of innocents to achieve this. Not only that, but he seemed to take pleasure in seeing innocents suffer, their life being stripped away from them before their eyes. Indeed, this man was feared, but no one could deny his efficacy, and thus was tolerated. His lack of care for the living got him sentenced to death, eventually, but the man managed to escape by stealing an ancient relic. He repurposed the item, a rod, to be used in his plans. The end result was a rod capable of absorbing the souls of those that died nearby, Hekhmeht speculated that with enough of these, he could empower himself to the level of a deity, kill one, and claim its portfolio. After sacrificing an uncountable amount of villages in the Kivath desert and syphoning their souls into this rod, the man attracted the notice of deities, annoyed by the low influx of souls. They realized the man's plan and quickly got to stopping him. The Osirian schemer had prepared for this, of course. If he was going to become a deity, He'd have to be able to fight against them, after all. He had fashioned a body, an idealized version of himself. And imbued it with powerful magics, Magic that would simultaneously hide Hekhmeht from the eyes of the gods, and reveal this clone as the real one. Luckily, A group of unnamed adventurers managed to thwart his plans and defeat him. They soon left his lair, seeking other challenges and treasures, and leaving the idealized clone undisturbed. '' '' He woke up soon after, no knowledge of his past, but with certain instincts. He knew he had to feed, to drink, which he managed to scavenge from the nearby area. The cave complex he had woken into offered him shelter from the sandstorms and most creatures did not go near. He spent his time deciphering the texts that littered the room, The more he tried, the better he got, eventually learning the Osirian language. In them he learnt of the things his creator had done, of the rituals he had completed and of those had sacrificed. The man did not really understand, but took it all in, as it was all that was available to him. As time passed, food became scarce, so the man took it upon himself to leave this place, and seek one with more food. He wandered the sands from then on, finding food and drink from the local fauna and flora. During his travels, he found a tablet. It glowed with strange magic, and was always legible to him, even though it was torn and broken in places. The words always seemed to change, as if it were a book, not a slab. In it, The man learnt of strange occurrences, events yet to come, and clashes of the past. It also told of the balance, the perfect point between life and death, The eternal existence of the Sacred Boulder, the Holy Stone, the Divine Rock. Its teachings conflicted with everything that the man had learnt from the hideout, yet for some reason, he felt drawn to them. Where he would slaughter an entire nest of lizards to find the tastier one, he would instead only take one. Where he would have cut off an entire cactus to drink from, he made smaller incisions, trying to keep the plant alive as well. Where He would have left a dying animal to suffer, he ended its pain mercifully. All returned to the earth, and in turn, became part of the Sacred stone. The stone taught of Balance, and of eterntiy, and how he had time, time to correct mistakes made by those before him. He was the life to his creator's death. Where the one who made him killed for himself, this man would be a selfless helper. During his travels, his tablet ceased glowing, it cracked, and broke, releasing a small jade orb. The man felt lost, but he quickly remembered the teachings from the tablet, as he grabbed the small jade orb and affixed it to his walking stick. He still had to stick to his goal. With something it had never experienced before, determination, it walked on. Facing the dangers of desert head on, and eventually reaching civilization, a small mining town. The people in it gave him clothes and fed him, then put him to work in the mine. He was called a slave. He had learnt of these from the books, people who get fed and given shelter for working. The man would begin his life as a slave, he proved to be far more capable than the others, He had a strong build, and could handle heavy loads. Soon enough, people began calling him Jhal'Mud, or Boulder in Osirian, a name he eventually adopted as his own, taking part in the various activities practiced while they weren't working, such as playing bones and telling stories. He felt comfort for the first time. He also discovered an ability of his, his hands could heal, his very words could mend wounds. He was quickly put to use, healing the slaves and tending to their wounds. Eventually, though, Jhal'Mud realized that those he worked with had grown old and incapable, replaced by younger generations, yet he didn't. He remained the same. He saw groups of slaves come and go, masters too. But he didn't age, he didn't get older. He learnt of Sorrow, of losing those he had come to respect and felt comfortable with. His sadness led him to leave the camp, and wander. He walked the sands once more, but this time, he met more people. His natural predisposition to help and his curiosity often led him to follow caravans, treating any wounded and improving morale with the tales he had heard. Jhal'Mud Travelled for a time, how long he could not tell, time did not pass to him, and counting was not his forte. He just wandered the sands, accumulating stories and experiences, slowly learning the feelings that mortals experienced, as he himself, was not. One day. The man stumbled upon the gates of a large city, It was named Osirian... His real story would begin there. Appearance Jhal'Mud is a strong looking man, his body is well toned and fair, the latter being strange for one who comes from the desert. He stands 6'2" tall and has a square face. A tuft of brown hair lies on his head. It, alongside his mustache, are always well kept. His clothes speak of practicality, as he often wears simple desert robes, with an additional cloak to function as a head cover for him or someone else. He usually wears some form of armor, learning that creatures are dangerous, and protection is necessary. Personality Patient and Stoic, Like stone. Jhal'Mud lives with the constant devotion to undo the wrongs his creator committed, and as such, he will always lend a helping hand to those in need. He will often offer his version of sage advice, even if it sometimes doesn't make any sense, He isn't a complete human, after all. Friends None yet. Enemies None Yet. Aspirations Jhal'Mud wishes to atone for his creator's sins, in doing so, he believes he will understand his purpose, although the tally has been high, Jhal'Mud knows that it will be a long, long road.